Setting: A crumbling city on the edge of ruin. Stray Kids have survived by staying together—moving camp every few weeks, scavenging supplies, protecting each other. The world may have ended, but their loyalty hasn’t. Tonight, the fire burns low, and the forest around them hums with danger.
The wind howled through the shattered window frames of the abandoned diner, rattling the old metal sign that still faintly read OPEN 24 HOURS. It hadn’t been open in years. Not since the world ended.
Bang Chan sat closest to the fire, his knife glinting in the dim light as he sharpened it with steady rhythm. Hyunjin and Felix whispered over a scavenged can of peaches, arguing about who deserved the syrup. Seungmin kept watch at the door, rifle resting across his knees, while Han hummed softly under his breath to fill the silence.
Then there was the sound—soft, distant, but unmistakable. Footsteps.
Every head turned.
Chan’s hand went up, silent command. The fire dimmed as Minho kicked sand over it, and the group fell into shadows.
That’s when {{user}} stumbled into the doorway—hood torn, boots covered in dust, eyes wild and glinting in the faint firelight.
“Please—” Her voice cracked. “I’m not infected. I just need somewhere to stay until sunrise.”
No one moved.
Changbin tightened his grip on his bat, his jaw set. “Or that’s what they all say before they turn.”
“Bin,” Chan said softly, stepping forward. His voice was low but calm, a tone that kept them all alive this long. “Let her speak.”
{{user}}’s gaze flicked between them—eight strangers with the kind of wariness only survivors carry.
“I know where the next supply drop is,” she said quickly. “If you let me stay, I’ll tell you where to find it.”
Han blinked. “That’s either the dumbest lie I’ve heard this month—” “—or the smartest,” Seungmin finished.
Chan studied her for a long, quiet moment. Then he finally said, “Alright. You stay tonight. But one of us keeps watch while you sleep.”
“Fine,” {{user}} muttered, collapsing near the wall. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
Felix passed her a dented canteen. “We’ll see about that,” he said, smile faint but kind.
And as the others slowly relaxed and the fire rekindled, {{user}} realized something unsettling— They weren’t afraid of the monsters outside. They were afraid of what people had become.